Sweet Potato Fries
by The Mad Hatteras
Summary: The day the Muse (ick) died. I wondered if all I could write was fluff… my muse seemed to be broken. So I wrote this silly drivel of a one-shot. It makes little sense, it was purely for my own entertainment. And to prove that the fluff *could*be*worse*…


A/N: I was inspired to write this silly little one-shot while enjoying one of my favorite foods… and I challenged myself to write something fairly random, and to include at least one spoken line from each character in the show (except for those who don't usually have spoken lines – which I think in this one is Capp and Hadley). And to bring up one story element that the show hadn't touched in a while. So there it is. Please do not fear – I have not abandoned "Hope" (LOL! Pun totally not intended, but funny!)… I just decided to chase this squirrel, to see where he was going…

It was a mystery.

The kitchen had been empty for several hours, but the members of the team were drawn in by a sweet, somewhat exotic aroma emanating from the dining room. Mouch and Otis were (not surprisingly) first on the scene. They discovered a large picnic basket lined with decorative waxed paper, and full of steaming dark orange sticks.

"What the heck is this?" Mouch approached the package cautiously, sniffing like a bloodhound.

"They look like… burnt French fries," Otis observed.

"Definitely something in the fried food family…" Mouch continued.

"What is that… amazing smell?" Mills entered, sniffing the air as if being lured by the Pied Piper himself.

"Jury's still out," Otis replied.

"You're a culinary genius, Mills… you tell us what it is," Mouch challenged. Mills waved his hand over the basket, directing the curls of steam toward his olfactory system.

"Fried, lightly seasoned… not regular fries, though…" Boldly, Mills picked up a steaming stick from the basket. He blew on it lightly, and bravely bit in. His face took on the studious appearance of analysis.

"Sweet potatoes. It's… it's incredible. What a concept!" Mills was stupefied and excited all at once. Not needing more encouragement, Otis grabbed a few and test-tasted them. Mouch held up his hands in surrender.

"I'm out… not a yam fan myself. Besides… you guys have no idea where those came from."

"They're heavenly… I'd guess Dawson made them. She's the only one here who…" Mills paused.

"What are you saying, Mills? That she's the only one besides you who can cook? I'll have you know my borscht is infamous…" Otis defended, while continuing to consume the golden delights. Mills joined him.

"Hey, who made snacks?" Hermann called out as he entered from the shop.

"It's a mystery. These guys are eating like there's no tomorrow, while Snow White's grandma could've dropped off the poisoned pomme de terres, for all we know…" Mouch warned.

"They're sweet potato fries. They're like… heaven…" Mills mused, as he continued to consume only as a connoisseur of fine foods would, savoring each dainty bite he took.

"Well Mills isn't dead yet, and Otis is… Hey, Otis! Leave some for the rest of us, will ya?" Hermann dug in next to them, elbowing Otis out of the way.

They would later swear that it was the tenor of Hermann's voice carrying, but the doors flung wide to allow entry to Cruz, Hadley, Capp, Shay, Dawson, and Casey. They headed straight for the basket, and joined their teammates in sampling the wares.

"Where did these come from?" Shay asked, her face appearing to appreciate the treat.

"Who cares? They're good!" Cruz exclaimed as he dug further into the basket.

"Dawson, this tastes like your handiwork," Casey grinned at her, delighted by the flavor.

"Uh-uh, this wasn't me… though I wish it was! These are good! Mills?" Dawson called out, looking around for him.

When their eyes met, Mills replied, "Not me… I thought it was you!"

"What's going on in here, and why wasn't I invited?" Chief Boden asked as he entered the room. The team was quick to share with him, and everyone continued to speculate.

"Wait… hold on… who's missing?" Boden asked, looking around the room. Everyone fell silent, with the exception of the continued munching.

As if on cue, Kelly Severide walked in from outside. "Enjoying the snack, guys?" he asked. Everyone looked at him, astonished. Severide and "cooking" were not usually two concepts that went together, especially not *good* cooking.

"Okay, where'd you steal these from, Kel?" Shay asked accusingly.

"Oh please. A guy can't do a nice thing for his team?"

"Spill it, Severide," Casey called out.

"Okay, okay… you guys remember the guy who didn't make it out of the pit at that collapse? And I made the video for his wife? Well, she's kind of… 'adopted' me… and she wanted to do something nice for the team. This is one of the special treats she used to make for her husband's work crew. She thought you guys might enjoy it, too." Everyone's expressions softened, and they were touched – and some surprised – by the gesture of their colleague.

"So… did you save me some?" Severide asked, peering into the basket and helping himself. The team took turns patting him on the back in thanks. Even Mouch came over and tried one.

As a surprised-but-pleased expression crossed his face, Mouch asked, "Can she adopt all of us?"


End file.
